


Minor Troubles

by ProwlingThunder



Category: Gundam Wing, Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Let's Have Some Extra Crewmembers, Party on Omega, Poker Nights, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard had not <i>really</i> expected to find any of the 'extra six' dossiers that Cerberus had dumped in her inbox, especially since Cerberus was not actually sure where any of them <i>were</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The God of Death

Shepard had not _really_ expected to find any of the 'extra six' dossiers that Cerberus had dumped in her inbox, especially since Cerberus was not actually sure where any of them _were_.  
  
But she ended up running across the _God of Death_ twice on Omega before she even realized who it was.  
  
  
  
  
There's no space in the armor for pockets, and no use for them at all even if there had been. Shepard may have been born in the Alliance, might have gone right into being a soldier, but she had never in her whole life been more glad that all her money was digitized than she was moving through the markets of Omega. Not that she thought the vorcha were going to pick her pocket, but...  
  
Well, that was the fourth wallet she had seen that kid pull to pay for things. This one was indigo, bright and garish, but the credit chit was silver. She thought she had seen the turian over there with it five minutes ago.  
  
The girl wasn't anything distinctive, she guessed. Brown hair, long, black jumper and a black cap. In all the gloom and rust of Omega, the moment the shop owner handed over the pistol-- an M-5 Phalanx, and what, exactly, was that even doing being sold on Omega's back markets? --the girl turned and vanished into the crowd again.  
  
A few minutes later Shepard saw her sitting at a food stall, with a woman's clutch and another shiny card.  
  
  
  
“Grenade incoming!”  
  
“Gren--”  
  
Shepard flung herself behind a console just in time for it to explode, the concussion knocking away two Blood Pack vorcha and spraying shrapnel into the nearby walls. The last of the vorcha, actually, she realized when there was no more shooting in her general vicinity.  
  
Across the room she saw Garrus peek around a hunk of steel to check for surviving enemies, even as a dazed Grunt began to pick himself up off the floor. She silently thanked Okeer for ensuring the tank-bred managed to get all the best of the krogan traits, including advanced healing. Some of the wounds had already clotted.  
  
Someone whistled, high above their heads. Shepard glanced up, pistol raised-- she almost didn't see them. Brown and black didn't exactly stick out that well against a rust-tinted ceiling, but half a body hung out of an air vent above their heads, the whole upper torso. A long braid dangled from their head, and a black cap was being waved in.. well. Greeting, maybe.  
  
“Shepard. Can I shoot it?”  
  
This far away, Shepard couldn't see the girl very well, but the way the girl drew her empty hand to her face and then flung it outwards was a very obvious blown kiss.  
  
Then she twisted, contorted-- and vanished into the vent without actually holding onto it, like some sort of snake.  
  
Garrus made a sound of approval from his chosen pillar.  
  
Shepard scowled at the ceiling. “This sort of thing happen often?”  
  
The turian shrugged, holstering his sidearm. “The Ghost of Omega? Sure. You'd be surprised how often you see it around.”  
  
“Well... at least she's helpful, I guess.”  
  
  
  
There was a vaguely familiar figure sitting on a stool in Afterlife, talking animatedly with the turian bartender who'd promised Shepard he'd find her a bottle of Serrice Ice to buy. Afterlife's lightplay distorted colors into painful mockeries, but black looked black under basically every light, and that tail of hair was becoming pretty distinctive at this point.  
  
“Aren't you a little young to be in here?” Shepard questioned, leaning up against the bar next to her.  
  
The girl tipped her head and smiled, a little wry and a little amused. “It's Omega for you.” She shrugged, curled her fingers around her shot, and threw it back in a single, smooth motion that Shepard had to give her credit for. “Besides! Aria doesn't care. She likes me where she can see me. Hi Aria!”  
  
The teenager raised her free hand and waved it. Shepard glanced up and saw Aria turn her head away sharply.  
  
Huh. Was that the great queen-bee of Omega pretending not to see the brat? Well then.  
  
“Heh. She loves me, don't let her fool ya.”  
  
“I'll bet she does.” Shepard frowned and looked back at the other, revisiting her previous assessments of the individual now beside her. Actually hearing a voice was.. upsetting. It didn't sound like it belonged to anyone of the female gender span, alien or not, and the kid was clearly human.  
  
Teenage boy, then? But young, if some of those hitches in pitch meant anything. A voice that had cracked and not fully settled down again.  
  
She'd bet her Star of Terra he wasn't nearly legal yet.  
  
The bartender brought over a sealed canister of brandy, the Serrice Ice label wrapped around it. Shepard clicked her omni-tool on and transferred the funds for it, then ordered a drink.  
  
The boy beside her quirked his lips. “For somebody special, Commander Shepard?”  
  
Her blood turned to ice in her veins, the same way it always did whenever a complete stranger said her name. “You know me?”  
  
“Of course. Drink's on me, Desantian!”  
  
“Pretty sure it's on Crathan over there.”  
  
The boy waved the accusation away. “Now now, he gave me the card, I tell you.”  
  
“Sure he did,” Desantian chuckled, refilling the teenager's glass. He then turned to Shepard. “What's your poison, missy?”  
  
“I'll have what he's having.”  
  
“One glass of Insanity Mud, coming up.”  
  
Shepard glanced at the pickpocket's glass warily. Insanity Mud? “I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here, I'm afraid.”  
  
“Ah. Of course!” The grin was blinding, but it was the offered hand that had Shepard checking to make sure her pistol was still where it belonged. “The God of Death, at your service! Name's Duo Maxwell, and I hear I get to reap quite a harvest on your rowboat.”  
  
  
  
  
The moment she and their would-be God of Death get back to the Normandy, she puts in a call to the Illusive Man.  
  
“He's not even _old enough to shave!_ ”


	2. The Lord Of Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kasumi aids Shepard in the collection of additional crew.

The rest of the dossiers do not get any easier. 

Shepard had not expected them to, but she had hoped, a little. After all, a girl without hope was a girl with no reason to live, and even when she had been _just_ an Alliance vanguard, she had never been brought down that low.

 

The rec room might have been kidnapped by a master thief for use as a personal bedroom, but it was still the rec room, and Shepard refused to let it be anything but. She was pretty sure that Kasumi slept cloaked, at any rate; or rather, didn't sleep at all. She was tucked on the couch with a book balanced on her knee and didn't visibly register Shepard's entrance.

Shepard cradled her datapad in one hand and watched her for a moment, then turned right and planted herself on one of the barstools. She could have gone to her quarters for quiet, but the loft's silence was loud and lonely both. She tapped on the datapad, scrolled through the information.

"Something on your mind, Shepard?"

Kasumi was still on her couch, nose still turned to her book when Shepard looked. She brushed dusty thoughts away and focused on the pad instead. "Just thinking. Cerberus' given me a whole list of people to pick up, but most of them aren't any more than that."

"I stole the Mona Lisa once," the Thief admitted, offhand. Shepard listened to the almost wistful lit of her voice. "All I had was a name in the beginning, but I found her in the end. It was fun."

It was pretty close to an offer for help, if Shepard knew anything about the other woman. About as close as anyone would get. "How did you do that?"

"Oh," Kasumi hummed. "I asked Keiji."

There was a moral to the story. Shepard lifted the pad over her shoulder for the thief. "Know any of these?"

"Just one. I'll call him for you."

 

Kasumi promised that she would call Shepard in when she was ready, so the Spectre decided to put her work away and check on the crew. There was a massive poker tournament occuring in the galley, and that's where most of them were. So close to the main battery, even Garrus had climbed out of his hideaway.

To hear him tell it, he had never played the game before. But as Shepard watched a couple rounds and remembered fondly of Ashley roping him and Wrex into a betting with heatsinks, she watched him rack up credits one person at a time. He hadn't quite thrown himself into the game back then, but he didn't play cautiously. The style had reflected him as a person, and it still did.

Now he played his cards close to his chest, and his expression was quiet and drawn, patient. She didn't think anyone else could tell.

It almost hurt to watch.

An annoying head of brown hair popped around the wall, peering over Garrus' shoulder. "Aww man, why didn't anyone tell me we were playing poker? Deal me in, yeah?" Duo hauled over a chair from where it had been pushed aside and tucked himself in between the Turian and Engineer Donnally.

Engineer Daniels, the current dealer, set about dealing him a hand. "Fifty credits to buy in."

"Just fifty? Easy!" A bright blue credit chit was produced instantly.

Shepard had the terrible notion it belonged to Aria T'Loak.

 

Kasumi was sitting on Shepard's couch when she made it back to her cabin. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she was absently fiddling with her omnitool, looking a little bored. She looked up when Shepard entered the room, her eyes glowing from beneath her hood. They brightened a bit further at the sight of her. 

"Shepard. Do you have a moment?"

Kasumi probably wouldn't have invaded Shepard's quarters if it were not important. Or, she hoped she wouldn't. She hoped Kasumi would give her a little bit of privacy. It was Kasumi's choice to move into the rec-room, after all. 

"Sure. What do you need?"

Kasumi unfolded onto the table, all legs, and then dropped her feet down to the floor properly. She slipped a metal bracelet off her wrist and placed it in front of her on the table. Shepard sat down next to her, leaning forward.

When Kasumi drew her hand back, the ring of metal flashed a pale blue and sprouted a hologram. It was a young man with slicked back hair, dressed in a sharp suit and wearing thin-rimmed glasses. The hologram distorted his age; Shepard thought he was in his late teens, early twenties. It was hard to say. He was human, and she imagined him to be fair-skinned and dark haired, but holograms were shoddy for anything resembling vibrant description. 

There was a design on his suit. The hologram made it too small to identify, considering he only stood about a foot high.

"Commander Shepard." The sound modulator in the projector made his words high and tinny, but she had enough training not to raise an eyebrow at it. Kasumi cared about frivolity over function most of the time, so either this was a truly good piece of secure communicator, or the voice was deliberately altered. 

Or both. With Kasumi, both was an option.

She decided to err on the side of caution. "Yes sir. Thank you for taking the time to contact me."

"Keiji's bride has vouched for your strength." The hologram didn't have enough detail for minute expression. He just looked pretty straight-faced. Shepard hated reading people in the first place; holograms? If she could meet the person who made them so blasted small... "Your mission is a noble one, but I cannot let you walk in there alone. However, there is something I must do before I board your ship."

"What is it? We'll help you."

"No. Kasumi, fill the woman in on the details she needs." The hologram went dark without further conversation.

Shepard turned to her resident procurement specialist. "And just which one was that?"

 

Of-bloody- _course_ Kasumi knew a pirate king. Shepard did not know why she was surprised.


End file.
